


Wildflowers and Art History

by theartistprince



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theartistprince/pseuds/theartistprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Éponine, tired of waiting for men who would never love them, begin dating and quickly fall in love.  However, when one of those men confesses his feelings, the three parties decide there's a far more fun solution to their love triangle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildflowers and Art History

It started off simply enough.

Grantaire would blame her short skirt and pouting lips. Éponine would blame the five pitchers of craft beer they consumed that night. Either way, it was a very easy beginning.

-

“Marius is a fool,” Grantaire slurred loudly, his voice echoing in the small British-style pub they decided to make their home in for the evening. 

His loud tone didn’t really matter, it wasn’t like anyone could understand him anyway. The pub was bustling with tourists, speaking rapidly in different accents, but always in English.

Éponine shook her head, her long brown hair flipping back and forth. “Marius is perfect, I’m the fool,” she said dejectedly. “How did I ever think I was going to measure up to Cosette? She’s so beautiful and sweet and I’m just… me,” Éponine said sadly, her heel-clad foot bouncing rapidly in a desperate attempt to keep the tears at bay.

“Hey!” Grantaire exclaimed, his English expression drawing hopeful looks from a table of American co-eds. He reached up and cupped Éponine’s cheek. “Cosette has nothing on you, Ép. You’re one of the best people I know. You’re so strong and brave. You’re hilarious. You have fun style and you can drink most of our friends under the table,” Grantaire declared passionately as he rubbed his thumb against her cheek. “You also have much nicer legs,” he added with a flirtatious smile. His hand fell to her knee, which drew a small glance from Éponine, though she did nothing to stop it.

“She has a much nicer face, though,” Éponine retorted, though a small smile played on her face. She leaned closer to Grantaire as his hand slid up her thigh to skirt around the hem of her dress.

“I feel that’s a matter of opinion,” Grantaire countered as he leaned in. They were close enough to each other that her heavy breaths blew against his bangs, rustling his already wild hair.

Éponine twirled a piece of her brown hair between her fingers. “I thought you were into blondes,” she said, her red lips twisting into a playful smirk.

Grantaire’s fingers stalled on her thigh for a moment before a small smile broke on his face. “I would make an exception for you.”

Grantaire was rewarded with a beaming smile from Éponine, her dimples fully on display. It was the smile that drew him to her in the first place, the one that made him want to sweep her into his arms and away from the shattered past she ran from but never spoke of. The smile was rare and Grantaire never wanted to see it fall. 

His hand moved past her thigh to the leg of her chair, so he could pull her closer to him. He stared at her for a moment or two before looking back at their empty glasses. He poured the rest of the beer from the pitcher into their glasses in an equal amount

“I wish you knew how beautiful you are, Éponine,” he told her, still not meeting her eyes. His hand had found its way back to her leg and she brought one hand up to his jaw, forcing him to look at her.

“I wish you knew how good you are,” Éponine responded, a large smile still present on her face. 

Grantaire couldn’t take it anymore. He let go of the now-empty pitcher and brought that hand to the back of Éponine’s neck, pulling her towards him.

He would always remember how she was still smiling when his mouth met hers.

Éponine would always remember the still-full glasses left on the small table of that Parisian-British pub when Grantaire pulled her out the door.

Their laughter bounced down the narrow streets as they practically skipped on the way to his apartment. Every so often, they would find themselves distracted. Grantaire would push Éponine against a wall to recapture her lips, Éponine would twirl under his arm, their hands still clasped.

It was when they were in Grantaire’s small apartment, littered with paint and charcoal, as they pealed the other’s clothing from their body that each thought the other’s beloved was truly the foolish one.

Grantaire woke first the next morning. His head pounded and his joints ached, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

It was only when he heard the soft sigh next to him that he began to panic.

Again, there was nothing out of the ordinary about Grantaire bringing someone home after a long night of boozing. It was just that the lucky man or woman usually decided to make themselves scarce before dawn.

Memories began to flood Grantaire. Of Éponine’s sad smiles, of her purple finger nails as she held out an empty glass, of her tempting short skirt and red-stained lips.

He remembered the soft skin of her thighs, the feel of the lace of her dress under his fingers. He remembered her beaming smile and the way she twirled in the streets after he kissed her.

Grantaire was thrown out of his memories as Éponine sat up and stretched her arms over her head. The sheet that was covering her pooled around her waist and she looked back at him.

The shy smile she offered contrasted with the boldness of her bare breasts.

No one could have blamed Grantaire when he surged up to kiss her.

Finally, after seven years of heavy drinking, Grantaire found a cure for his hangover.

-

It wasn’t that Éponine forgot about Marius when she started dating Grantaire, it was just that she didn’t need him anymore.

Éponine knew that Grantaire loved her far more than Marius could. Even in Éponine’s deepest dreams, she still altered herself for Marius. She would stop wearing so much black, drink mojitos instead of whisky, choose fancy clubs over dive bars and stop sneaking the occasional drunk smoke.

She didn’t do that with Grantaire. They danced wildly together in the cheapest dives in Paris, shared cigarettes they procured through flirting with drunk almost-underage boys, made out in bathroom stalls and ate horrible pizza in a vain attempt to go to bed somewhat sober.

In the morning, Éponine would straddle his hips and pout that they passed out before the real fun could begin. Grantaire would indulge her, gripping her hips and biting her skin. She would be confused when bruises appeared, wondering if she got them on their nights out or the next morning.

Though Éponine’s infatuation with Marius waned during her time with Grantaire, Grantaire could not say the same about his own preoccupation with Enjolras.

Grantaire had been in love with Enjolras from afar for eight long and painful years. He never dared utter his feelings to the other man, too afraid that he would lose him forever. He never told any of his friends.

That is, he never told any of his friends until he met Éponine.

Their friendship began over the bond their unrequited love for men who would never notice them and the mutual respect for vintage bar music. 

However, fairly quickly into the relationship they found themselves in, Grantaire noted that he vastly preferred having Éponine as a lover instead of just as his friend and it wasn’t just because he had fallen in love with her. 

Despite the strong feelings he had for Éponine, he still couldn’t forget about Enjolras as quickly as she did about Marius.

It made him feel horrifically guilty at first until Éponine smiled kindly at him, pushed some of his hair out of his face and simply said, “You can love more than one person.”

-

All of their friends agreed that Éponine and Grantaire were oddly perfect together. They were brash and lived for fun. Over time, Éponine would stop shooting side-long glances at Marius. She had Grantaire now and she was happier than she ever thought she would have the chance to be.

Courfeyrac raised a glass to toast, “By far, the drunkest couple any of us will know!”

Jehan gripped their shoulders tightly and told him how happy he was that they found love.

Bossuet finished the sentiment with a Rihanna lyric, causing Musicetta to glare at him.

Everyone was overwhelmingly happy for Éponine and Grantaire.

Everyone, that is, except for Enjolras.

-

They day Enjolras realized that he had feelings for Grantaire, he locked himself in his apartment and worked on his dissertation for five days straight.

Combeferre came by and was shocked at the disarray of his friend’s apartment. There were coffee cups strewn everywhere and bags under Enjolras’s eyes. His curly hair was greasy and unkempt and Combeferre knew that Enjolras was wearing the same clothes that he had last seen his friend in, though with considerably more coffee stains.

The day that Enjolras realized that he was in love with Grantaire, he left Paris, choosing to visit his sister in Brussels for a week. That week turned into three and when he came back, Éponine was perched on Grantaire’s lap, making him laugh with whatever it was that she was whispering in his ear.

Enjolras got his coffee to go and headed straight to the library.

No one saw him for another four days.

Grantaire was the first to find him and was shocked at Enjolras’s state. To him, Enjolras was always beautiful, but he looked haggard nonetheless. He was hunched over a book in the Medieval Studies section of the library at the Sorbonne, his hair a mess from his constant combing with his fingers.

The section was completely empty, save Enjolras, who’s desk was littered with rumbled paper, empty coffee cups, tea bags and dusty books. Enjolras was so engrossed in whatever it was that he was reading, he didn’t even notice that Grantaire’s footfalls disrupted the otherwise perfect silence of the library.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked timidly before pushing the other man’s shoulder slightly. “You okay?”

Enjolras turned to Grantaire with broken eyes, dark bags marring his usual perfect complexion, which made Grantaire kneel at his feet immediately. He placed a hand on Enjolras’s denim-clad leg and clutched the fabric desperately. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, Enjolras,” Grantaire begged, unable to see Enjorlas in such a state.

Enjolras said nothing for a moment, just stared at Grantaire with reverence. The look shocked Grantaire, as he was so used to lavishing the same expression upon Enjolras. He never expected to be on the receiving end of it from those piercing blue eyes. 

In an instant, Enjolras laced his fingers through Grantaire’s hair and pulled the brunette up. He clashed his mouth to Grantaire’s and stood with him, pushing the slightly shorter man until he was flush with a section on Medieval medical practices.

Grantaire kissed Enjolras back desperately, his hands clutching at Enjolras’s plaid shirt until his knuckles were white.

Enjolras’s tongue swept across Grantaire’s bottom lip and Grantaire complied instantly, opening his mouth to let Enjolras explore. Grantaire reached up and ran his fingers through the golden curls he had longed to touch for almost a decade.

The kiss was almost everything Grantaire had imagined it would be (though he personally would have picked a sexier section of the library) but the slight guilt that curled in his stomach stopped him from properly enjoying himself.

He and Éponine had the hypothetical conversation about what would happen on the off chance that Enjolras ever approached one of them. There was a plan in place, but without Éponine’s consent, Grantaire couldn’t go any further. 

Grantaire pulled back suddenly with a gasp and rested his head against Enjolras’s. His fingers remained curled in Enjolras’s hair. “I brought Éponine with me,” Grantaire blurted out, wincing internally as a sharp look of hurt crossed Enjolras’s face. 

“You should go find her,” Enjolras said sadly, not quite meeting Grantaire’s eyes.

Grantaire racked his mind desperately, eager to keep Enjolras with him but wresting with his new feelings for Éponine. 

“She’s up in the Art History section,” Grantaire said slowly, a smile crossing his face. “Shall we get her?” 

They scoured the multi-levelled library for Grantaire’s girlfriend, only to find her sitting in the Byzantine art section, trying not to laugh at the mis-proportioned faces. Enjolras hung back, well aware of Grantaire’s intentions. It wasn’t hard to figure out, after all, at least when he knew Grantaire as well as he did.

It wasn’t that Enjolras wasn’t interested in Grantaire’s idea. He was. Immensely so, in fact.

He had to admit, Éponine was a beautiful woman. He always thought so, ever since he first met her, with her loud laughter and chipped nail polish. 

She was fetching sitting there, her short sun dress fanned out around her and her hand clutched to her mouth to smother her laughter. Her dark eyes sparkled brightly as she flipped the pages of the well-worn book.

Éponine beamed up at Grantaire when he approached and put her hand in his without hesitation. 

Grantaire pulled Éponine close to him and began to whisper something Enjolras couldn’t hear into her ear. Her eyes settled on Enjolras, her brow furrowed at first before her expression smoothed out and her eyes turned wicked. She smiled at him flirtatiously and Enjolras felt his heart stall for a moment before a slight panic set in.

Éponine pulled herself away and nodded at Grantaire before moving over to Enjolras. She laced her arm through his as Grantaire extracted Enjolras’s messenger bag and put it on his own shoulder before putting an arm around Enjolras.

“Isn’t he such a gentleman?” Éponine teased quietly before she began to pull them both towards the elevator.

The next morning, Enjolras stood in his kitchen, holding a cup of coffee but unable to drink it.

Memories flashed through his mind. He remembered his sharp protest when Grantaire dropped his messenger bag on the floor. He remembered being cut off when Éponine dragged her hands down his chest from behind. She unbuttoned his shirt then dragged her sharp nails down his bare chest. Enjolras was only human, so even he couldn’t blame himself when he pulled her around to face him. He remembered trailing his hand down her back, unzipping her dress as he went.

Grantaire watched, perfectly content to see the two people he loved together, but he was never a man to resist temptation.

He remembered the freckles that were splattered on Grantaire’s back, the dark hair on his chest, the soft curves of Éponine’s body contrasting with the sharp angles of Grantaire’s and the distinct feeling that this was the way it was always supposed to be.

Grantaire walked into the kitchen, wrenching Enjolras from his memories. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that he had clearly rifled through Enjolras’s drawers for, but Enjolras couldn’t bring himself to care. There was something alluring Grantaire wearing something that belonged to him.

Especially when his pants hugged Grantaire’s hips as tightly as that particular pair of sweatpants did.

Enjolras remained silent, for once finding himself without anything to say. Grantaire pulled two coffee cups out of the cupboard and set one on the counter, filling the other with coffee.

He settled himself against the countertop across from Enjolras.

“I love you, you know?” Grantaire declared before taking a long sip of his coffee. His eyes were fixed on a spot above Enjolras’s shoulder but couldn’t make himself meet his eyes.

Enjolras remained silent for a moment but kept his eyes fixed on Grantaire.

“I love you too,” Enjolras admitted, staying firmly on his side of the kitchen.

Grantaire didn’t have such reservations. He placed his coffee cup on the counter and made his way to Enjolras, wrapping his arms tightly around the other man’s torso. “I’ve waited so long to hear that,” Grantaire muttered into Enjolras’s neck. 

Enjolras placed his cup down and wound his arms around Grantaire gratefully. His fingers brushed the hair at the nape of Grantaire’s neck as he trailed the fingers of his other hand down Grantaire’s bare back.

“I love her too,” Grantaire said, pulling back slightly. “And I won’t leave her. Not for you and not for anyone. I won’t be like every other asshole that ever entered her life. I love her too much for that.”

Enjolras kept his face neutral, though the urge to kick Éponine and Grantaire out of his apartment and bury himself in his work did flare. Only his manners kept him from it.

“So,” Grantaire started as pulled out of Enjolras’s embrace. “I think the only logical conclusion is also the most fun conclusion,” Grantaire said flirtatiously as he moved back to his coffee cup. “If you’re amendable, that is.”

Enjolras’s eyes bulged slightly at the prospect. He understood Grantaire’s intention, that the three of them enter into a romantic relationship. 

Did Enjolras want that, though? He barely thought he could handle one significant other, let alone two.

Besides, he didn’t love Éponine. 

Did that really matter, though?

His back still burned from where her nails had scratched him, but that was far from unpleasant. He shifted when he remembered the sound of her moans in his ears and feeling of her leg when it wrapped around him in the night.

Before he could answer, Éponine padded softly into the kitchen, clad only in one of Enjorlas’s button down shirts. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked desperately over at Grantaire, who passed her a mug without a word.

“Éponine’s not pleasant in the mornings until she has her coffee,” Grantaire explained as he looked fondly down at Éponine. Enjolras felt his heart stir at Grantaire’s expression, though it wasn’t with jealousy. Instead, the feeling felt comforting, a certain contentment that he couldn’t remember ever needing but never wanted to lose.

“If you two were in bed, you could have woken me up in a far more pleasant manner,” Éponine teased back, smiling brightly up at Enjolras before she reached around him for the coffee pot. 

Enjolras found himself entranced with her, entranced with the idea that she could be his as well. She moaned softly when she took her first sip of coffee, stirring Enjolras’s memory of the night before, making him shift again.

“Why are you wearing a shirt?” She asked him after she took her first sip before she reached up and began to unbutton his shirt with one hand.

Enjolras felt a flush creep onto his face as he watched her steady work, her chipped fingernails carefully unhooking each of his buttons. When he brought his eyes up to meet Grantaire’s, he found the dark haired man smiling knowingly at him.

Enjolras helped Éponine toss his shirt onto the counter, barely missing the sink full of dirty dishes. “I’m amendable,” Enjolras told Grantaire before swooping down to capture Éponine’s lips.

“This is the best day ever,” Grantaire declared to the heavens before pulling Éponine’s coffee cup out of her hand and raining small kisses on her neck, lacing his hands around her body to unbutton her borrowed shirt before pushing it off her shoulders.

Grantaire then reached around her to set to work undoing Enjolras’s pants. He barely had them unzipped before Éponine was frantically trying to push off the blond’s slim hips.

As Enjorlas dipped his head to place opened-mouth kisses across Éponine’s chest, reaching around to pull off the track pants Grantaire borrowed, Enjolras had to agree.

Best day ever.

-

Despite Enjolras’s hesitations, it wasn’t any more difficult to have two partners instead of just one. 

In fact, he found that he rather liked it.

He liked walking Éponine to work before dropping Grantaire off at his art studio on his way to school. He liked eating take-out with them when they watched horrible porn, the three of them trying to mock it before succumbing to its pull and retiring to bed.

He loved wrapping his arms around both of them when they fell asleep at night, Éponine nestled between her two boyfriends. He loved watching Grantaire draw wildflowers on Éponine’s arm whenever he was bored. He loved when Éponine’s little brother, Gavroche, stayed with them on the rare time she could wrestle him away from her parents. 

Enjorlas wouldn’t even trade the more upsetting aspects. Éponine had intense nightmares she never talked about, but Grantaire would kiss her shoulders as Enjolras held her against his chest. He and Éponine would sit on the bathroom floor with Grantaire after the brunette man had gone overboard at the bar. Grantaire and Éponine would force him to eat when he tried to frantically grade papers, work on his dissertation and save the world.

The three of them worked together, that much was clear. They were happy.

Until Grantaire signed up for an art excursion to England.

-

“I’ll only be gone for two weeks,” Grantaire soothed Éponine as he trailed a hand down her back. 

Éponine’s arms were wrapped tightly around Grantaire’s torso. Enjolras understood Éponine’s hesitation. She and Grantaire hadn’t even been parted for a night since they first started dating almost four months ago.

Though Enjolras was going to miss Grantaire as well, he was a little more logical about the fact the other man was only going to be gone for a short trip. 

“My train’s going to leave soon, Ép,” Grantaire said softly before leaning down to press his lips to her. He pulled back and smiled sadly at Enjolras, reaching over to pull the blonde to him to kiss him good bye as well.

They garnered a few odd glances from passers-by but they were quickly growing used to that.

Enjolras wrapped an arm around Éponine’s shoulders and pulled her back from Grantaire as an announcement rang that the train to London would be leaving in a matter of minutes.

“I’ll draw you a thousand wildflowers,” Grantaire promised Éponine as he picked up his duffle bag. “I love you both,” he pledged.

“I love you too,” Éponine and Enjolras chorused before Grantaire gave them a final salute and boarded his train.

As the train pulled out of the station, tears fell from Éponine’s cheeks onto Enjolras’s arm. He quickly whisked her outside and bought her a pain au chocolat and daffodils to see her smile again.

He was rewarded for his efforts with her firm declaration that, “I would be a sad if you left.”

Enjolras hesitated as he trailed a hand down her side. “Maybe I could bring you and R with me to my next conference.”

Éponine gave him a dazzling smile, dimples on full display before she kissed him. Enjolras pulled away from her slightly, his lips still hovering above hers. There was a smudge of chocolate smeared just under her bottom lip, which he wiped away with the pad of his thumb. “Do you want to go out to dinner tonight? To that place you mentioned last week?”

His answer was another kiss before she laced her arm through his and pulled them in the direction of their apartment.

It didn’t take long for Grantaire and Éponine to make to make themselves at home in Enjolras’s apartment. It was far bigger than Grantaire’s and safer than Éponine’s. Éponine had moved all of her things into Enjolras’s apartment about a month into their relationship. It was fast but neither Grantaire nor Enjolras liked the idea of her living in the dangerous neighbourhood, which was all she could afford.

Grantaire moved his clothes to Enjolras’s, but kept his original apartment free as an art studio.

Enjolras assumed he’d hate living with other people, having chosen single rooms during his years as an undergraduate and living on his own since moving out of dorms and into an apartments. 

However, living with other people was worth it when he found himself waking up with Grantaire’s mouth wrapped around his cock or Éponine straddling his hips or, his secret favourite, Éponine and Grantaire fooling around, pretending that they were trying not to wake him.

It was worth it when Éponine would slip in with him during his morning shower because she didn’t want to be stuck with cold water or when Grantaire would fall asleep against his shoulder during the news.

It was when Éponine skipped from the bedroom, dress in hand, to the bathroom that Enjolras realized he had inadvertently asked her out on a date.

It was after the shower turned off and loud retro music began to blare, the tell-tale sign of Éponine getting ready for a night on the town, that panic began to set in.

Enjolras had never been on a date with Éponine.

It was an absurd thing to panic about. After all, he knew every tic of her body, the way dark freckles trailed up her thigh in a tantalising path, the birthmark on her hip, the way she looked when she was hung over and how she sounded when she sneezed. Why should he worry about going on a date with her?

Yet, here he was. Panicking a little.

It wasn’t like Enjolras had never been on a date. He was twenty-six years old. He had been on a lot of dates.

Truthfully most of them ended in despair and a new found annoyance pointed towards the human race, but still. 

He had been on dates.

He had even been on dates with Éponine and Grantaire.

He sat in between them as they watched poorly dubbed American movies, clutching the popcorn that they ate greedily. They met for lunch at cafes. The three of them ate at fine restaurants, ignoring the stares and whispers of other patrons as they tried to suss out who was dating who.

It usually ended with them deciding that Enjolras and Éponine were dating and Grantaire was Éponine’s brother.

This led to some rather disturbing foreplay talk that Enjolras just wasn’t into.

However, Enjolras had never been on a proper date with Éponine alone. 

There was an unspoken aspect of their relationship that Enjolras, Éponine and Grantaire never touched on and that was the bond between Enjolras and Éponine.

At least it was unspoken until three days before Grantaire left for England.

-

“We should have never had a going away party for him, he’s only going to be gone for two weeks!” Enjolras exclaimed in his most commanding whisper, trying not to rouse the neighbours more than they had to.

Éponine fumbled with the keys to their apartment, glancing back at Grantaire. She had only had four or five drinks herself but was pulled out of her delightfully hazy state by Grantaire’s excessive drinking.

Grantaire was being held up by Enjolras, who had his arm wrapped tightly around the drunk.

Éponine pushed open the door and locked the door behind Enjorlas, who dragged Grantaire to the bathroom. Éponine made her way straight to the kitchen, knowing that the drunk man needed water. 

When she got to the bathroom, Grantaire was already retching into the toilet while Enjolras rubbed his back soothingly.

“I’m going to kill Courfeyrac for buying him six Jager bombs,” Éponine grumbled as she sat the glass of water on the counter and knelt down next to Grantaire.

After Grantaire was finished, he moved to lean against the wall and accepted the glass that Enjolras pressed into his hand. Éponine flushed the toilet and sat across from him while Enjolras leaned against the bathtub.

“I’m so sorry,” Grantaire muttered around his glass, some water splashing onto his shirt.

“You should be,” Enjolras countered, earning a glare from Éponine.

Éponine reached over and combed her fingers through Grantaire’s hair. “You just over did it, ‘Taire,” Éponine said soothingly.

Grantaire shook his head desperately. “No,” Grantaire moaned. “I mean I’m sorry for forcing you to be together,” he clarified, resting his head against the cool tile of the wall. 

Éponine and Enjolras looked at each other for a moment before looking back at Grantaire.

“I would think it’s fairly clear that you’re not forcing us into anything we don’t want to be in,” Enjolras pointed out. 

Éponine nodded quickly and reached over the small bathroom to clutch Enjolras’s hand. “I agree. I mean, you were there this morning, right?” She joked lightly, giving Enjolras’s hand a squeeze.

“You both love me and I love the both of you, so you had to,” Grantaire slurred, shaking his head back and forth. “But you don’t love each other,” Grantaire sobbed. “I’m so sorry I’m selfish. I’m such a selfish asshole.”

“Grantaire, just drop it, okay?” Éponine snapped, snatching the empty glass from his hand and filling it with the tap in the bathroom sink. She grabbed a bottle of Advil from a drawer and forced the glass of water into his hand before pouring the pills into his hand.

Enjolras looked up at Éponine in shock. It was true that her temper could get the better of her from time to time, but rarely at Grantaire and never when he was drunk.

Why didn’t she want to talk about their relationship? Talking about his feelings was far from Enjolras’s favourite activity, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. 

Grantaire chose to make his bed on the bathroom floor that night, head nestled in a small stack of towels.

Éponine stripped out of her skinny jeans and tank top without a word as Enjolras followed suit. They didn’t bother with pyjamas, Éponine because she didn’t own any and Enjolras because Éponine would only pull them off, even if she didn’t have any intentions on having her way with him. She just preferred the comforting feeling of direct contact and both Grantaire and Enjolras were happy to oblige her.

Peeling back the blankets, Enjolras laid down first. Éponine chewed her lip as she looked down at him and he struggled to keep his eyes glued to her face. 

She crawled over to him and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth. Enjolras reached to tangle his fingers in her hair, using his other arm to pull her onto his lap. Their kisses grew more passionate and Éponine dragged her nails through his golden curls, tugging lightly to pull Enjolras’s head back.

“You know I want to be with you, right?” Éponine asked, locking eyes with him.

Enjolras hesitated, because he didn’t really know that at all. 

“Of course,” he lied quickly, mostly because Éponine had started squirming slightly above him. “And I want to be with you,” he declared before flipping her onto her back and hovering over her.

“Well, that much is clear,” Éponine giggled as she dragged her leg between his to brush against the proof. 

-

It was true that Enjolras wanted to be with Éponine. 

The only time he hesitated and considered the idea that the relationship would only be for Grantaire’s sake was in the stairwell between the Medieval Studies section and Art History section that day in the library. 

He knew far before he confessed his feelings to Grantaire that he was attracted to Éponine. She was beautiful and feisty, all floral prints and leather jackets. He was always attracted to her, when she traced her eyes in heavy black liner, when she woke up in the morning, right after her shower and when she fell asleep against Grantaire’s shoulder as they watched TV. 

Éponine was naturally alluring. She didn’t even try. 

One of the oddest moments that he revelled in was when she shaved her legs with his razor with one foot propped against the bathroom sink clad only in a towel, which Grantaire and Enjolras had quietly decided was a very odd turn on, but it worked for them. 

Beyond his attraction, there were certainly parts of Éponine that Enjolras would say he was incredibly fond of. 

He liked the way she hummed old R&B songs when she made them coffee in the morning, her years of experience in cafes and Starbucks helping her perfect the art of brewing. He liked it when she scrubbed him with her body wash during a shared shower in the morning, ensuring that he could smell her on him for the rest of the day. 

There were even parts he would say he loved. He loved the sparkle in her eyes after he picked her up from a double shift, before she pecked him on the mouth and went about telling him about her day. He loved the feeling of her hair when his hand twisted in it to pull her in for a kiss. He loved the sound of her laughter when she watched old episodes of The Simpsons.

He just didn’t know if he was in love with her.

He knew he loved Grantaire, he had known that for months. He knew that Éponine loved Grantaire. He knew that Grantaire loved both of them back.

But did Enjolras love Éponine? And did she love him?

Those were two questions that Enjolras just couldn’t answer.

When Éponine emerged from the bathroom, Guns ‘N’ Roses still blasting from the from the iPod dock she kept in there, Enjolras found he didn’t care. She looked beautiful in the red dress that Grantaire had inexplicably bought her for Enjolras’s birthday present a month ago.

(Later that night, Enjolras had bit Grantaire’s neck playfully before pulling back to whisper that he would have preferred Éponine in nothing at all. Grantaire agreed but said that Éponine already got him that.)

Enjolras gaped at her slightly. The dress was quite the gift, hugging her body before flaring slightly at her hips. It cut off around mid thigh and Éponine’s feet were still bare. Her dark hair was twisted into a bun, a few tendrils of hair framing her face. Her lipstick matched the bright red of the dress and she smirked knowingly at him.

“Aren’t you going to change?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Enjolras nodded slightly before forcing himself to take his eyes off her to change into something a little nicer.

Éponine didn’t indulge in Enjorlas and Grantaire spoiling her very often, her pride overtaking their desire to lavish her with all the things she wanted but could never afford. 

He changed quickly into a nice navy blue button down shirt and a pair of black slacks, before moving back into the living room.

Éponine looked him up and down before pouting playfully. “It isn’t fair that it only takes you thirty seconds to get ready for a night out and you look gorgeous and it takes me over half an hour.”

“You always look beautiful, Éponine,” Enjolras scolded firmly. Grantaire had told Enjolras of Éponine’s various insecurities in hushed tones while they laid in bed as she got ready for one of their dates.

Enjolras thought it was absurd that their girlfriend would see herself in such a negative manner. Grantaire explained the deep wounds that Marius had unwittingly left on the young woman, which only left Enjolras’s anger directed towards his friend and flared a distinct, bitter feeling of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. It was illogical, but it was there.

Despite his harsh tone, Éponine still blushed under Enjolras’s compliment and fumbled a bit when she tried to put on her high heels. They were black and didn’t match the dress in the least, but they were the only pair Éponine owned. Though she accepted Grantaire’s flimsy excuse to buy her the dress, she drew the line at shoes. 

“Do you think ‘Taire’s having fun yet?” Éponine asked as she slipped her hand into Enjolras’s as they left the apartment building.

Enjolras gave her hand a firm squeeze. “No,” he replied bluntly. “He’s likely still in transit, as he’s going to the British countryside.”

Éponine smiled fondly. “Grantaire does hate travelling,” she commented as they walked down the street towards the restaurant she had chosen.

When they entered it, Enjolras was taken by its beauty. There were high ceilings and low slung chandeliers everywhere. Local art was displayed on the wall, including one that Enjolras knew well.

“Isn’t this Grantaire’s?” Enjolras asked, pointing at one of the more beautiful paintings in the foyer.

“Yep!” Éponine said happily. “You know how he is about his art, but I saw it through the window as I was walking by one day and I’ve wanted to eat here ever since.”

It was true that Grantaire’s only bashfulness stemmed from his artwork, which he chose not to display around their apartment, nor did he often tell them which galleries he was featured in.

The host led them to an intimate table near the back of the restaurant. Enjolras laid his hand across the table as soon as they sat down and Éponine didn’t hesitate to take it.

Upscale establishments tended to make Éponine feel uncomfortable. She once told him in the darkness of night and the safety of their bed that she felt like she could feel everyone judging her, like they knew of her upbringing as soon as they laid eyes on her. Ever since that confession, Enjolras did everything in his power to make Éponine feel more comfortable.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she examined the menu, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face with her free hand. Enjolras ran his thumb across her palm causing her to look up at him through her eyelashes.

Enjorlas felt his heart stall, as it so often did around Éponine and Grantaire. She smirked at him wickedly before running her foot across his ankle.

Shifting a bit, Enjolras couldn’t decide whether he wanted her to stop or continue. The decision was made for him as he felt the imitation silk of Éponine’s shoe slip into the leg of his trousers, caressing the back of his calf.

“How do you think the salmon is here?” Enjolras asked, his voice slightly more strained than usual. 

Éponine smiled and dropped her foot, leaving Enjolras with a distinct feeling of loss. “I’m sure it’s great.”

After dinner, Éponine held Enjolras’s arm happily as they walked through the well-lit streets of Paris. She babbled on happily about their meal and the restaurant, which made Enjolras glow with pride. He knew that Éponine had a hard life before he met her and he was happy to make her present a little brighter.

Éponine’s loud laughter, the sound Enjolras loved so much, caught in her throat as her eyes settled on Marius and Cosette. They were walking hand-in-hand in the direction that Éponine and Enjolras came.   
Enjolras felt the sharp sting of jealousy wind its way into his stomach when Éponine’s expression fell at seeing Marius and Cosette together. It was the same way he felt when he first saw her happily sitting in Grantaire’s lap all those months ago.

“Hello, Marius, Cosette,” Enjolras nodded politely at his two friends as he draped a protective arm around Éponine’s shoulders, bringing her closer to him. 

“Hello!” Marius said happily, his hand tightly gripping Cosette’s. “Isn’t Grantaire with you?”

“No, he’s in England,” Enjolras answered for the both of them. Éponine offered the couple across from them a weak smile before taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Oh right, the going away party!” Marius exclaimed with a laugh. “That was a hell of a night.”

Cosette smiled shyly at Éponine, causing the brunette to offer another weak smile before looking up at her lover. Éponine’s hand gripped the back of Enjolras’s shirt tightly.

“We should be going,” Enjorlas said quickly, unwilling to take his girlfriend’s discomfort any longer. The more upset she was, the more upset he got. He squeezed her shoulder tightly before they said their good byes to the other couple and made their way to the Jardin de Luxembourg. 

Éponine twirled slightly when they entered the garden, the frown that she had sported since they ran into Marius completely gone.

His jealousy still hadn’t abated but he couldn’t help the wide smile that crossed his face when he watched her prance among the flowers. 

Suddenly the realization hit him, just as it did with Grantaire all those months ago.

He was in love with her.

Of course he was, he was stupid to ever doubt it. He loved her bright smiles, her loud laughter, the way she looked in the morning. He loved the sound of her voice, the look of adoration she gave him when he handed her a second cup of coffee in the morning, her excitement when he picked her up from work. He loved how she looked when she was curled in Grantaire’s lap as they watched TV, her eyes when she flirted with other men for free cigarettes and the way she clung to him and Grantaire as she slept.

The sudden revelation caused Enjolras’s knees to feel weak. He sat on the edge of the fountain and Éponine frowned down at him.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, reaching a hand down to push the curls out of his face. 

Enjolras looked up at her pensively, cocking his head to one side. Her fingers remained on the edge of his hairline, her thumb rubbing comfortingly over his cheekbone.

“I love you, you know?” Enjolras said, repeating Grantaire’s rather unorthodox confession from months prior.

Éponine’s frown disappeared, only to be replaced by a beautiful smile. “No, I didn’t,” Éponine confessed before bending down slightly to capture Enjolras’s mouth in a searing kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he stood up, pulling Éponine onto her tip-toes.

Enjolras pulled himself back slightly, keeping his forehead pressed against hers. “What about Marius?”

Éponine blinked for a moment before pulling back, out of Enjolras’s arms. “What about Marius?” She asked, her eyes narrowing.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” He asked, starting to feel uncomfortable at the current situation he found himself in. Enjolras hated talking about his feelings.

“No!” Éponine exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I’m not in love with Marius, I’m in love with you and Grantaire!”

Enjolras felt his heart soar at Éponine’s declaration of love for him, even if they did seem to be in the middle of a fight.

“Then why were you acting so strangely around him and Cosette?” Enjolras couldn’t help but ask.

“That had nothing to do with Marius!” Éponine explained before calming herself down. “It was about Cosette.”

“Cosette?” Enjolras repeated, confused about what Éponine could possibly mean.

(Though he would never admit that the filthiest part of his brain flashed to an entanglement he wouldn’t be adverse to witnessing.)

Éponine looked down at her black shoes. “I wasn’t very nice to her when we were children,” she admitted. “I’m ashamed by the way I treated her and when she’s around, I’m only reminded by what a horrible person I am.”

Enjolras was slightly taken aback by Éponine’s confession but didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her. 

“You’re a fantastic person,” He told her honestly. “You should talk with Cosette about it, I’m sure she doesn’t hold any hard feelings,” Enjolras said as Éponine tipped her head back to look up at him. Enjolras kissed away a stray tear that was trailing its way down Éponine’s cheek.

“Let’s go home,” Enjolras said softly before pulling Éponine through the garden. 

-   
Two weeks later, Grantaire silently slipped into the apartment, depositing his art supplies on the dining room table. It was early in the morning, as Grantaire took the earliest train he could back to Paris. It had been a long week away from his two lovers and he wasn’t sure that he could spend another few hours away from them.

He pulled one of his many paintings of wildflowers out of his portfolio and left it by the coffee pot, ready for Éponine to see. He knew that it was going to be hard for his girlfriend to be parted from him for so long, he just wasn’t ready for how much he would miss her too.

He had missed both Éponine and Enjolras more than he thought he would. He never understood when Joly and Bossuet would pout when Musichetta went to Switzerland to visit a cousin or Nice to see her parents, but he got it when he was locked in a bed and breakfast outside of Bath. 

The sight of tears slipping down Éponine’s cheeks and Enjolras supportive smile but sad eyes haunted him for the two weeks he was gone.

He opened the door to their bedroom as quietly as he could and smiled down at the sight of his two lovers cuddled together. They were tucked together on one side of the bed, Grantaire’s usual spot left vacant, waiting for his return. He quickly shed his clothes, as per Éponine’s rules of the shared bed, and crawled in beside them.

Grantaire leaned over to brush a stray piece of Enjolras’s hair off his forehead, causing the other man to nestle his face further into Éponine’s hair. 

He smiled fondly at the sight and moved his hand down to trace Éponine’s high cheekbone, trailing his finger down her jaw line.

Éponine’s eyelashes fluttered as Grantaire’s finger began to slip down her neckline. She cracked open her eyes to be met with his wicked grin and she didn’t hesitate before leaping out of Enjolras’s arms to crash her mouth to Grantaire’s.

She kissed him passionately and Grantaire couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back just as desperately, his fingers pressing into her sides as he held her, as if she was keeping him on earth.

Enjolras’s shot up when Éponine left his arms, roused out of his sleep by shock. It took him a moment to register what was going on. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the sight of Éponine and Grantaire’s embrace. Enjolras reached over and ran a hand through Grantaire’s wild curls.

Grantiare pulled his mouth away from Éponine to smile at Enjolras. He moved one hand from Éponine’s side to bring it to Enjolras’s shoulder, which he held onto just as firmly as he did Éponine.

Enjolras leaned over to Grantaire and pressed his mouth against his firmly for a moment before slipping his tongue into the other man’s mouth softly. Éponine has taken to attacking the column of Grantaire’s throat, sucking and biting the sensitive skin there. The contrast of sensations threatened to drive Grantaire mad, making him wonder why he ever left in the first place. 

Enjolras pulled back for a moment, causing Grantaire to pout about the loss, to rearrange himself. “I trust you missed us?” Enjolras asked as he manoeuvred himself onto his knees to get better access to Grantaire.

A small hand snaked between Grantaire’s thighs under the blanket, causing the dark haired man to gasp slightly. “I think that much is clear, Enjolras,” Éponine giggled as she stroked the length. “Did you think about us when you were gone?” Éponine asked, her sultry tone betraying the innocence she tried to put behind her eyes.

Grantaire could only nod, his mouth agape slightly.

“What did you do when you thought of us?” Enjolras pressed before taking Éponine’s position at Grantaire’s neck.

Grantaire swallowed heavily, making Enjolras smile against the other man’s neck. He bit down on the skin just left of Grantaire’s Adam’s apple, which made Grantaire groan loudly before he could answer.

“I drew,” Grantaire answered, causing both Éponine and Enjolras to pull back for a moment and look at each other.

It wasn’t the answer that they expected.

“I drew wildflowers and barricades and empty cups of coffee,” Grantaire babbled as he reached for his two lovers, eager for them to continue their ministrations. “Rumbled beds, stacks of books, everything that reminded me of you two.”

Éponine smiled brightly at him and Enjolras grinned. Enjolras reached down to the hand Éponine had wrapped around Grantaire’s erect penis and pulled it off, causing Grantaire to glare playfully at him. Enjolras brought the hand to his mouth and dragged his tongue across it slowly lavishing each finger with attention. Éponine squirmed above Grantaire, causing the dark haired man to snap his hands to her hips to hold her in place, though neither could take their eyes off Enjolras. Once he was done, Enjolras moved her hand back to Grantaire’s cock.

Enjolras flung the duvet to the floor and away from Éponine and Grantaire so he could snake in behind Éponine. He ran his hands up to cup her breasts, his sharp blue eyes staying on Grantaire’s. Éponine moaned loudly, her head lulling back against Enjolras’s shoulder as Enjolras ran one of his hands down her torso to settle between her legs.

Éponine’s hand stilled on Grantaire’s cock as she raised herself on her knees to meet Enjolras’s strokes more readily. Grantaire smirked as he pushed her hand aside and leaned forward to begin laying open-mouthed kisses on her chest. His rough hands ran up her body, a sharp contrast to Enjolras’s smoother, more cared for palms. Grantaire grasped one of Éponine’s breasts as he began to nip at the sensitive flesh of the other.

Enjolras pressed two of his fingers inside Éponine, causing the woman between them to gasp sharply. She wrapped her arms around Grantaire to gain leverage as she rode Enjolras’s fingers.

“Isn’t she so beautiful, Enjolras?” Grantaire asked as he ran a hand across Éponine’s backside.

Enjolras hummed his agreement as he sucked at Éponine’s neck and shoulders. Éponine came undone with a cry, her forehead falling forward onto Grantaire’s shoulder. He ran his hands down her sides soothingly as Enjolras extracted his fingers, wiping them on his thigh.

After letting Éponine get her breath for a moment, Enjolras pulled firmly on Éponine’s hips, pulling her back from Grantaire. Grantaire leaned back on his elbows, unable to keep a smug smirk from crossing his face.

He really was the luckiest man in Paris.

Éponine smiled down at Grantaire blissfully, still caught in the after effects of her orgasm. She leaned her head back to catch Enjolras’s mouth in a lazy kiss before she leaned over to give Grantaire the same attention.

Grantaire’s head leaned back as Éponine began to trail a line of kisses down his body. She did it attentively, but a bit quickly, eager for what Enjolras had in store for her when she reached their lover’s cock.

Éponine’s breath swept past Grantaire’s penis and Enjolras gripped her hips firm as he lined himself up behind her. Éponine licked a long trail up the length of Grantaire’s cock just as Enjolras pushed himself into her from behind. The three of them moaned in unison before Éponine took the initiative to wrap her mouth around Grantaire and took as much as him as she could in her throat.

She moaned as Enjolras quickened his pace, causing Grantaire to throw his head back in pleasure. Enjolras watched as bliss travelled across Grantaire’s face, making him become even more aroused than he already was. Enjolras tried to keep a steady pace but as he looked down at his two lovers, the beginnings of orgasm etched on Grantaire’s face, the long lines of his body, his hand clutched tightly in Éponine’s hair, the muffled sounds of Éponine’s moans from around Grantaire’s cock and the softness of her back, Enjolras couldn’t help himself.

He thrust with more intensity, causing Éponine to moan in the back of her throat. Grantaire, subsequently, came with a cry, his hand tightening around Éponine’s hair. His hand moved under her chin and pushed her head up. As she met Grantaire’s bright blue eyes and smiling face, she came undone for the second time that morning, held up only by Enjolras’s hands gripping her hips.

The tightening of Éponine’s inner walls caused Enjolras to come quickly after her.

“If I was a younger, less hung over man, that sight would definitely make me hard again,” Grantaire joked as Enjolras pulled himself out of Éponine. 

Éponine crawled up Grantaire’s body and nuzzled into his neck. Enjolras leaned over the bed and grabbed the duvet, covering the three of them with it. He took his place behind Éponine and wrapped his arm around both of them, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on Grantaire’s hip as he pushed his face into Éponine’s hair.

“Shall I make coffee?” Éponine joked, causing the other two men to laugh on either side of her.

“Maybe later, Ép,” Grantaire replied as he rested an arm behind his head. 

As Éponine’s breathing levelled out and Enjolras’s hand fell limp on his hip, Grantaire decided, without a fraction of a doubt, that he was the luckiest man in all of France.

-

When Enjolras and Éponine first said they loved each other in front of Grantaire, they were wishing the blond man good luck.

It was a week after Grantaire got back from England and Enjolras was forced by his supervisor to give a speech concerning the plight of the Roma people in Eastern Europe. His dissertation was far from done, but he was a PhD candidate and thus at the beck and call of his professors.

Though Enjolras never really got nervous for presentations, Grantaire and Éponine got nervous for him. 

Éponine was straightening his jacket as Grantaire brushed some lint from Enjolras’s shoulders.

“What do they say, just picture everyone in their underwear?” Grantaire advised as he pushed some of Enjolras’s long hair off his forehead.

“I think I’ll just picture them in their business attire, thanks,” Enjolras said irritably before taking a step back from his lovers. He hated being fussed over. “Okay, I love you both and I appreciate the help, but you have got to stop.”

Éponine smiled up at him, not seeming to care that he was annoyed. “You’re going to do so well,” Éponine said before wrapping her arms around his waist. Enjolras accepted the embrace more readily than the fuss over his appearance. “I love you so much.”

“Fucking finally!” Grantaire exclaimed, throwing his hands up to the sky. Éponine and Enjolras untangled themselves from each other and looked at their boyfriend oddly.

Grantaire leaned over and placed a firm kiss on each of their mouths, causing them to look at him with even more confusion.

“I was afraid you two were never going to say it!” Grantaire cried happily. His grin faltered as the expressions on Enjolras and Éponine’s face told him they still didn’t understand his exclamation.

“I was afraid that you were both only in this for me and you would never have feelings for each other,” Grantaire explained softly. “I mean, I knew that you liked each other enough and you are clearly attracted to each other,” Grantaire hastened to add before his hand came up to the back of his neck. He smiled slightly at them. “But I want this to be forever so I needed you to love each other as much as I love each of you.”

Enjolras reached over to grasp Grantaire’s shoulder and pulled the other man to his chest firmly, wrapping his arms around him. “This is forever, I promise,” Enjolras muttered into the other man’s shoulder. He pulled one of his arms away and motioned for Éponine to join them, which she did without a moment’s hesitation.

“I love you both so much,” Éponine said passionately. Grantaire placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

They stayed like that for a moment before Enjolras regretfully untangled himself. “I’ll see you both after the presentation.”

“We can go to that restaurant that you and Éponine keep talking about,” Grantaire said as he and Éponine took a step back from Enjolras.

Éponine and Grantaire watched proudly as Enjolras delivered a passionate speech about the rights of humans in the modern world. Grantaire reached over and grasped Éponine’s hand tightly as the crowd rewarded Enjolras with a standing ovation.

There was no doubt in his mind.

 This was their forever.

**Author's Note:**

> There we go! Hope you enjoyed this little lovely threesome. There's no better way to end a fandom war and I'm too soft-hearted for love triangles anymore. Why can't everyone be in love?


End file.
